


Want versus Need

by hannapalooza



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), First Time, Mild BDSM, Other, Power Dynamics, Restraints, Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), no beta we die like men, not my headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 03:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannapalooza/pseuds/hannapalooza
Summary: Crowley knows what he wants, Aziraphale knows what he needs.





	Want versus Need

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fiction writing for six years, please be gentle. 
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies, I do not own the original work, or profit from this.

Crowley would be the first to admit he wasn’t a particularly good demon. Not at the truly evil and depraved stuff at any rate, he never developed either the taste or the inclination. Sex though, messy, noisy,_ human_ sex was where he excelled, and make no mistake he took Pride in his work (and occasionally his hobby). One look at him and you knew he was practically built for it, literally the first phallic symbol in the history of creation, barely contained in a serpentine unholy vessel that screamed of hidden delights.

Truth be told his sexual exploits were wholly about his pride, the lust just being what he put on the paperwork. Patience was a virtue that Crowley twisted to draw the most exquisite earth shattering pleasure from his partner, knowing that from that day forward he would always be there, in some dark corner of their mind, thoughts of golden yellow eyes rising unbidden decades later, laced with the tantalising sorrow of an indescribable loss. He never made an encore performance.

So of course he wanted to fuck the angel. Not for the feather in his wing from head office, not even for the bragging rights and celebrity such a feat would infer on him. No, it just rankled him that Aziraphale was always so annoyingly put together and unrumpled. He wanted to ruffle him up a little, put a crease in his immaculate clothing, that was all. And if words such as debased, desire and debauched occasionally floated up from his subconscious when he was musing then, well he _was_ a demon.

All of this is why it is so _Goddammned_ unfair (unprecedented) that he’s the one shackled to his own headboard, with a pair of exquisite restraints, flushed and squirming, trousers tangled around his ankles, further restricting his movement, thighs slick with sweat and pussy juice, which is aching in a way he’s never felt in his millennia long, mostly miserable, existence. And the angel, Satan preserve us, is _still_ immaculate, sleeves fastidiously rolled to the elbow, a beatific smile on his face as he perches on the edge of the bed, a single finger idly circling Crowley’s ankle, looking for all the world as though he hasn’t just wrecked a demon without even getting a crease.

Somewhere, somehow this night had gone very wrong for Crowley (although, wrong is a subjective term in this instance) and this is why he now found himself in a very compromising and perilously new situation, with barely enough brain power to seethe at the injustice, not nearly enough to navigate the heavenly twists and turns that led him here and worst of all, on the verge of pleading pleading! for more.

\----------------------- ----------------------------

It started off so innocently, as these things often do. A spot of dinner and a warm invitation for some complicated wine, and delicious conversation (or was it the other way round?). Crowley was, frankly, bored. Not of the angel, never of the angel, but the 80’s were going remarkably well for his side, what with Thatcher and Reagan spreading their gospel of selfishness and greed, and a million yuppies fulfilling their baser urges on a regular basis. There just wasn’t much for him to do, and Satan he never imagined how much cocaine would impinge on his fun. How was he meant to imprint himself on someone when all they could think about was themselves? He itched in his skin, irritable and prickly, so much so that even the angel remarked that he was a “bit snippy.”

The wine was excellent though, as was the conversation, and it was almost enough, on most nights it would’ve been, but the devil makes work for idle hands, and the angel’s placidity and composure was treading on Crowley’s last nerve.

“Oh, what is it Crowley, why are you glaring at me?”

Crowley lurched forward, his body always seemingly on the edge of falling over and brandished his glass in drunken pantomime;

“You. You’re so…” he twisted his face into a grimace “stick up your butt, perfect, and so bloody…bloody serene all the time!”

Aziraphale brushed a speck of imaginary dust off the knee of his trousers and looked Crowley in the eye.

“Well, that’s hardly new information.” His words were slightly slurred but still full of warmth and affection.“Why is it bothering you now?”

Crowley sighed dramatically, draping himself across his ridiculous throne, directly opposite Aziraphale.

“I don’t know why I bother hanging out with you. You’re so” he twirled his wrist elegantly “mundane.”

Now, Crowley was nowhere near as drunk as he seemed, this plan of his (although missing time and location until now) had been percolating for a good few centuries. First make the angel feel small, and then reveal how he can return to Crowley’s good graces. It was simple, and bound to work, wasn’t it? (And before you ask, yes Crowley was more than a little to blame for pick up artists.)

Crowley looked over, expecting a hurt little moue on the angel’s face and was not disappointed, Aziraphale bristled slightly, smoothed his trousers (again!), and carefully placed his wine glass on the floor.

“Look, if you’re just going to take your mood out on me, I’m going to go home, you’re no fun like this anyway.” He rose, absent mindedly patted his pockets (one of those weird human mannerisms that he’d picked up over the millennia, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what its purpose was) and made to leave. Crowley shot his impossibly long leg out to bar his exit (or at the very least make it slightly more awkward to leave).

“You want to have some fun angel? There are plenty of ways to improve the mood of a demon you know.”

Aziraphale stood there dithering for a moment in front of Crowley’s artfully stretched leg, before straightening his back and looking Crowley in the eye, his face dissolving into that unbearably pure crumpled anguished look that he usually reserved for kicked puppies.

“Oh, is that what has been troubling you? I’ve been so selfish, dragging you out to all my favourite restaurants and plays all this time, you must have been frightfully bored.” Aziraphale stepped back, retook his seat and wine glass, “I do apologise for not asking before, what do you like to do for fun?”

_Oh for fuck’s sake, trust the angel to completely misinterpret what he meant._

Crowley tilted his head back exposing the long line of his throat and took an indulgent draft of wine, plotting for a moment.

“What do you lot get off on? Seeing mortals good and happy and.” Crowley trailed off into a trademark series of syllables that conveyed disgust, twirling his wrist.

“Demons only dessire (just the hint of extra sibilance) the sins of others. You, for instance.”

_Was that a squeak, did Aziraphale just squeak?_

“I’m not sinful!” he protested, indignant.

“I’ve heard the noises you make when you eat angel, but don’t worry, I enjoy watching you indulge the sin of gluttony. There is something deeply satisfying in watching a human, or angel surrender to pleasure, to succumb.” He drew out the words, every single one a deliberate and pointed inference.

In one graceful movement he swung his legs down, planting his feet on the floor and leaning forward towards Aziraphale, narrowing snake eyes at him. He lowered his voice, hoping the angel would crane closer to hear.

“But, it’s sso much better if I have a hand in the temptation.”

Aziraphale’s voice had a definite thread of anxiety floating amongst the words, and he was blushing, but his hands remained still, his head up, bravely making eye contact with the brazen demon.

“Are you trying to tempt me Crowley?”

“Of course I fucking am! How can you be so old, and have read so many books, and yet still be so clueless?”

“And you’re trying to tempt me to” he cocked his head slightly “have sex with you?”

Crowley was momentarily flustered at how smoothly this has all gone, but pressed home his advantage.

“Yessss” He used a touch of demonic power to infuse the word with darkness and promise, inched slightly closer to Aziraphale, and hit him with an incredibly unsubtle waft of pheromones, watching as Aziraphale’s eyes glazed over for a second, nostrils flaring slightly.

“Do you think I will enjoy it?”

Crowley laughed, full of affection.

“I promise, You’ll love it more than the finest meal you have ever tasted.” Crowley drained his wine glass and miracled it away, placing a hand gently on Aziraphale’s knee. This was the point where if you weren’t skilful enough you could send a skittish shag running for the hills. Luckily Crowley had nearly 6000 years of experience to draw on.

“Trust me angel, I will do things to you that will make you never want to return to heaven.”

“Blasphemy” But Aziraphale said it half heartedly at best, and his thigh had twitched when Crowley placed his hand there.

Crowley grinned, in a way that had sent countless loins a fluttering over the centuries, and he could see Aziraphale’s pupils dilate just a fraction, his lips part in an infinitesimal gasp.

“May I kiss you Aziraphale?” Crowley rarely used his name, was never so formal, and it was a fairly shameless ploy to be honest, but Satan be praised it actually worked.

“Um well, since you asked so nicely.” Aziraphale dropped his gaze, suddenly coy.

Slowly, Crowley dropped to his knees in front of the sofa. His hand was still resting gently on the angel’s thigh, and it was a simple movement to tilt his head up and capture a pair of soft, rosy pink lips against his cruel edged smile. He took his time with the kiss, practiced at reading the tension of a nervous lover, knowing just when and how to inch them forward, but after minutes of careful and patient ministration Aziraphale’s lips were parting more hungrily, and he was leaning out of his chair towards the demon.

Crowley broke the kiss, letting his tongue linger across Aziraphale’s bottom lip before departing. He sat back on his heels, very pleased with what he saw. Aziraphale was a deep luscious pink from hairline to shirt collar, pupils almost obscuring his irises, letting out short little pants of air from his parted lips. In short he was already a bit of a mess.

“Oh my.” His fingers fluttered up, traced hesitantly across his mouth;“that was. You tasted. Oh my.”

Crowley just waited, admiring his handiwork, allowing Aziraphale a moment to process, certain that the angel would ask for more.

_There is no way that small sample had sated a glutton such as him._

Sure enough it took mere seconds for Aziraphale to look him in the eye and say tremulously;

“More?”

“What would you like angel?”

“Just more of the kissing I think. You do taste rather marvellous.”

“Your wish etc etc.” Crowley leaned back in with a smile, raising a hand to cup Aziraphale’s cheek as he descended on his mouth once again. He was more relentless this time, breaching Aziraphale with his tongue almost immediately, subtly directing and deepening the kiss. He was more than a little gratified when he felt a stunted little moan escape between their lips, Aziraphale abruptly becoming more pliant, and correspondingly more greedy, a hand, soft as a butterfly landed on Crowley’s shoulder and Crowley realised how much of an excellent idea this had been.

And yet still he was patient, he had no desire, no need to rush this, the angel would unravel soon enough under him. He waited, kissing and kissing, his tongue effortlessly forcing gasps and minute shivers as Aziraphale indulged and indulged, until with a surge his hands flew to the back of Crowley’s head, crowding him forward and starting to devour. Crowley immediately relinquished control, allowing the angel to angle his head and take his fill of the demon’s mouth, reading his pleasure in grasping hands and soft surprised sounds as Aziraphale explored.

Eventually, Aziraphale broke the kiss, leaning back slightly to catch Crowley’s eyes. Crowley performed some minor magic to make himself look sufficiently invested (pupils slightly dilated, a tinge of colour on cheekbones and chest) and smiled invitingly, tongue flickering out to chase the taste on his lips, watching as Aziraphale’s eyes tracked the movement.

_Good. Oh Hell, the angel is visibly trembling, and his face, flushed deep pink, lips swollen and parted, is the picture of want_.

He felt pride slowly uncoil in his belly at the sight, knowing how much better it was going to get.

Crowley broke their physical contact before Aziraphale, drinking in the flash of pain that flashed across his features, before reclining gracefully on the floor at Aziraphale’s feet, miracling a full wine glass back into both their hands, and positioning himself to look as tempting as possible, propped up on his side in one long lean line.

Aziraphale looked like he was struggling to regain his composure, his eyes irresistibly drawn back to the figure on the floor, looking at Crowley like he was some kind of feast (which, he supposed was appropriate.)

“Alright angel?” he asked gently.

He could have skimmed the angel’s surface thoughts (and boy, if he had the evening would have taken a very different turn), but he’d always regarded that as somehow cheating, it took the challenge and the surprise out of it, that was certain.It took a long few seconds for Aziraphale to answer.

“Ye…yes, I think so. It’s..it’s a bit overwhelming to be honest.” His voice was hoarse, uncertain, and Crowley knew he would have to play this carefully or the angel would bolt in shame and doubt. And since he was still fully dressed, and Crowley hadn’t even mussed up his hair yet, that would be a tragedy.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere, I have all the time in the world.” Crowley kept his voice low and resonant in his chest, projecting honesty and intimacy, and stretched out, snake like (or cat like, it was sexy, that was the point) on the floor. He was relieved when Aziraphale took a shaky breath and sat back against the chair.

“It’s not something that normally occurs to me, but I feel very warm, is that hmm usual?”

“It’s definitely usual when you keep your coat on indoors angel, but human arousal does lead to an increase in body temperature, so it’s definitely usual if you’re turned on.”

“Oh! I’ve heard that phrase, and I understand it now, it’s a perfectly apt description for how I’m feeling, all fizzy. Yes, turned on indeed!”

Crowley was fully prepared to scowl at the angel’s ridiculously pure excitement, but then Aziraphale _wiggled_ and Crowley wanted to see that, feel that_, cause_ that again. Instead he smiled, dark and inviting and sat up slightly, caught Aziraphale’s attention and started slowly running a finger down the length of his long, elegantly arched neck.

“That feeling is jussst the tip of the iceberg, you let me know when you’re ready for more.” His finger continued the downward momentum to the v of his shirt and onward, wisps of smoke rising as he delicately burnt the shirt open down to his belt.

“You’re so unnecessary Crowley” the angel huffed, sounding exasperated but fond.

“Unnecessary?”

Aziraphale waved his hands to indicate well, everything Crowley was putting out there.

“You’re not just beautiful, you’re almost a work of art, not just sinful but the epitome of lust. It’s…it’s a lot.”

“Epitome?”

“Well I assume, and will you stop echoing me?” Aziraphale stood suddenly, and started to struggle out of his coat. “Oh, blasted thing” he swore as a sleeve got caught. Crowley was rather enjoying watching Aziraphale struggle (it seemed very human in that moment) but rose to his feet anyway, carefully easing the vintage fabric away from Aziraphale’s shoulders and down his arms, leaving behind the gentlest of touches in his wake.

Aziraphale kept his back turned for a few seconds, Crowley could hear him taking a few steadying breaths, and then he span on his heel, and with a touch the precious coat was neatly folded on the desk.

“That was a little embarrassing, thank you dear boy, most gracious.” Aziraphale’s face was tilted upwards to meet Crowley’s gaze, and Crowley fiercely tamped down the urge to scowl in response.

_Not the time_.

Instead he concentrated on projecting warmth, closeness, peace, with an undercurrent of pleasure, so much pleasure.

Surprisingly, Aziraphale reached up, running a soft finger pad down the sharp angles of Crowley’s face, across his lips, huffing slightly as Crowley flicked his tongue out to taste. Crowley gently, oh so gently encircled the angel in his arms, pulling them slightly closer together, keeping an eye on the many expressions that flitted across Aziraphale’s face as their bodies were drawn together. There was no hesitancy there, no hint of anxiety, just an eagerness and a wide eyed wonder that probably would’ve ruined a lesser man/demon, especially when he dropped eye contact to goggle at the mouth that was currently doing obscene and very pointed things to his finger.

“Oh, Crowley” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley felt something, deep, deep down where he never looked, raise its head and sniff the air as the angel removed his fingers, grabbed Crowley’s chin and claimed his mouth in a demanding kiss, stepping immediately closer, melding into the sharp planes of the body in front of him. Crowley tightened his grip on the angel’s waist, again let himself be led as Aziraphale crowded against him, one hand tightly on his jaw the other swooping under the open tails of Crowley’s shirt to the small of his back, spreading a palm against the skin in claim as he took his pleasure in Crowley’s mouth.

Crowley drew his hand up the crushed velvet of the angel’s waistcoat, feeling the shivers follow his touch, the hitch in breath as they kissed.

_Damn he's so responsive in the best way, and this is still fully clothed!_

He lingered at Aziraphale’s collar, fingers drawing idle circles, only one layer from skin, waiting for the perfect moment.

_There._

Aziraphale changed the angle of his kiss, and the demon skated two finger tips across the exposed skin between shirt collar and hairline, at the same time twisting his hip subtly, to press against Aziraphale’s groin, at his definitely interested cock. The effect was immediate and exceedingly gratifying, the angel moaned, deep and wild while his knees just gave out.

Crowley tightened his grip as he went boneless, steering them down onto the sofa with reassuring hands. “Woah there, easy, easy angel” he gentled as Aziraphale let out a giddy little laugh, his face a picture of unrestrained joy. Crowley still had his arms around him, his hands turning soothing, grounding as Aziraphale let out a long held breath in a shudder. A trembling hand patted softly at Crowley’s thigh.

“I’m sorry dear boy, can we take a short break, I feel too much at the moment, I’m slightly afraid my essence may burst out.” He laughed, “Well you must know how it is.”

Crowley didn’t answer, but there was a suddenly a cup of earl grey in Aziraphale’s hand, and the demon had subtly shifted so the two of them weren’t pressed so close together. Aziraphale’s hand remained on Crowley’s thigh as he took a long slow sip of his tea, his body sprawled almost as decadently as Crowley’s usually was, eyes closed. Crowley angled himself to watch as the angel gathered his thoughts, knew he wouldn’t be quiet for long, Aziraphale often processed verbally. Sure enough one sip later and an eye cracked open, something fleeting and unreadable passing across his vision as he realised that Crowley was just patiently looking at him.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Aziraphale, you don’t have to ask permission for anything, not tonight. This is about what you want, what will bring you pleasure, you can give in to your every desire and I’ll be here for it.” He punctuated the words with a meaningful squeeze against the angel’s hand on his thigh.

“What?” Aziraphale’s face creased in confusion. “No, that’s not how sex is meant to work is it? One person getting all the pleasure and the other doing all the work? Not to mention what if I wanted to do something you didn’t like or didn’t want? No that doesn’t feel right at all, it should be a mutual exchange of pleasure don’t you think?” Aziraphale flashed a dazzlingly bright smile at Crowley who was, for once in his eternal life, stumped.

S_tupid bloody selfless angel, trust him to take a simple thing and complicate it, make it thorny and difficult. Mutual pleasure indeed, did he know nothing about demons?_

He steadfastly ignored the something deep down that was declaring the idea of mutual pleasure very very interesting.

Aziraphale was still watching him, waiting for an answer and Crowley did something hasty and uncharacteristic; he told the truth.

“Err, that’s not really how it goes with this. Generally when demons are tempting they leave their own um” he gestured vaguely downwards “feelings out of it. To be honest, a lot of the time there wouldn’t be any mutual anything anyway. Satan you should see the sight of some of them!” Crowley let out a reflexive shudder at some of the more unsavoury encounters he’d been tasked with through the millennia.

“You mean! You mean!” Aziraphale was suddenly, unaccountably furious; tearing himself from the demon’s grasp, jumping to his feet and whirling to face the demon. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been…been faking it? With me? Tonight? Laughing at me, making a damn fool of myself, is that it? Just another night’s work for the serpent of Eden, you never actually wanted me!” He looked stricken, eyes wide and disbelieving.

_Shit, shit shit!_

“Of course I want you, just look at yourself!” Crowley blurted out.

_Oh fucking shit you what?_

“Err,” Crowley swallowed hard. “I mean this isn’t an assignment or mission, no orders I just wanted you to have fun that’s all. It didn’t occur to me to, you know, turn it all on, never have before, but if that’s what you want then sure, of course, what was it you said? Mutual pleasure, yeah that sounds like fun?”

_ I sound nervous. Why do I sound nervous? Why am I actually nervous? Oh yes, vulnerability. Well fuck._

He thought, for a brief moment, of continuing to fake it, Aziraphale wouldn’t know the difference after all, but something (not coincidently the very same thing that had jostled idly awake at his name on the angel’s lips earlier) stirred, rebelled, hissed a drawn out noooooo, and with a sigh he snapped his fingers, connecting his corporation to his essence. He really hoped he wasn’t as sensitive as the angel. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love, chapter two is in progress!


End file.
